Always: Catching Fire (Peeta's POV)
by RubyArrows
Summary: Scenes from Catching Fire from Peeta's POV. I am not very good at writing descriptions, but give it a chance. Hope you enjoy. Review/follow/favorite because I'll be adding to this regularly until complete. Have also done scenes from the first book in a separate story (find via my profile) and plan to do scenes from Mockingjay.
1. Decisions

**The first portion is mostly my own creation, Peeta's POV of the months since returning to District 12 after the Games but before the Victory Tour. I apologize that it's taken me so long to do scenes from Catching Fire from Peeta's POV. Read and review, please! :) And go see the film if you haven't already (I've seen it twice!).**

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I'm awake again, even though I don't want to be. The whole house is quiet and peaceful, my parents and brothers asleep, but the nightmares don't allow me to sleep for more than a couple hours at a time. I prop myself up in bed and look out the window. My new home is three houses away from Katniss's house, both of our homes now in the Victor's Village of District 12. The Victor's Village is an empty, almost barren place, with our mentor Haymitch's home being the only occupied house since the village's construction. From this vantage, I can see the back door of Katniss's house, and her bedroom window, curtained in darkness. I know she doesn't sleep well, either, because sometimes the light in her room is on at odd hours. She must battle with nightmares, as well.

On this morning, I watch as she slips out in her hunting clothes and head toward the meadow. We'll be meeting in a few short hours to begin the Victory Tour, visiting all of the Districts whose Tributes we had a hand in killing. Katniss and I will be reunited. The thought twists my stomach into knots, the confusion of our time in the arena and her words to me at the train stop.

_"It was all for the Games," I said. "How you acted."_

_"Not all of it," she told me._

"_...I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" I asked._

_"I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," she said. _

But then she held my hand, so tightly I lost feeling in my fingertips. How much of this was for show and how much of it was real emotion on her part? I realize I may never know, but I do know I still care about her deeply. Before the Games, my infatuation with her was just that-a crush, an almost innocent feeling of curious attraction. But after the Games, I feel I know her, even if I'm unsure of her real motives. I know she needed to get home to her family, in whatever way she could. Loving me in the arena was her best option, and her defiance of the Capital was a bonus we never planned on. I can't be angry with her anymore, not when we're about to go on tour and play the happy couple again. Holding hands, smiling, even kissing for the cameras… How am I going to handle this?

I push away these thoughts as I watch Katniss walk away from the village, her thick braid down her back, as usual. I know she slips through the fence, which is supposed to be electrified but mostly isn't, and I imagine she meets up with Gale. He works nearly every day in the mines, but I know he must have some days off. _Gale_. I try not to torture myself with the thought of the two of them spending time together, but my imagination is too vivid at times. Gale and Katniss in the woods, the hours they must spend talking, hunting, just being quiet together, and who knows what else, thoughts that sting and cause me to burn with a jealousy I didn't know could exist.

Maybe I really am in love with Katniss now, but we aren't even friends. I get up out of bed and move toward the kitchen for some breakfast, food that isn't stale and actually tastes good, except for the bitterness of having won the privilege of eating well in the Hunger Games. I decide that I must apologize for ignoring Katniss over the past few months, for not trying to forge a friendship based on… what? Based on the mutual horror of our time in the arena? Based on fear that we will disappoint President Snow? No, we'll have to find something else upon which to build a real relationship. The thought is daunting, but I feel that I must at least try to breach this gulf between us.


	2. Reunion

**I am inventing a bit more back story to explain how Peeta spent the time between the Games and the Victory Tour. Please review and follow/favorite! :)**

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I make my way to Haymitch's house, carrying a freshly baked loaf of bread that I've laced with cinnamon and raisins, a delicacy formerly unknown to most of District 12 before our win in the Games. They look terrible but taste kind of like the plums Katniss loves in her lamb stew.

As I step outside, the daylight is muted, and I notice a light snow has begun to fall. I'd begun this errand by thinking maybe Haymitch has some choice words about how I can begin to make friends with Katniss. They've always gotten along in a way I don't quite understand. Maybe it's mutual respect, maybe Haymitch sees Katniss as the daughter he never had, with Katniss seeing Haymitch as a kind of warped father figure. I'll probably never know. But I know I count Haymitch as a friend, and that I trust him for the most part, even if he is drunk much of the time.

It makes sense to me that he'd want to dull his experience of life with liquor of all kinds, after his own time in the Games. I've no stomach for the stuff, having tried it on one of my visits to Haymitch. I'd sniffed at an open bottle of some dark liquid, unlike the white liquor he usually drinks.

"Go ahead, boy," Haymitch had said, pushing the bottle toward me.

"What, me? Drink this stuff?" I'd asked, disbelieving and shaking my head.

"One try and you'll know if it will do the job for you," he'd said, taking a drink from a short glass of the dirty-looking mixture.

I shrugged and tilted the bottle back, wetting my lips and letting a small amount pour into my mouth. I'd nearly gagged at the flavor, and the alcohol burned my tongue and throat as I swallowed. But it instantly gave me a warm feeling, something that reminded me of holding Katniss close in the cave, and the way I felt when she kissed me. I drank more, slowly at first, and the feeling intensified. I was surprised how _good_ it felt. With some help from Haymitch, I'd finished off the bottle.

I'd also slept better than I had in the months prior, with my dreams taking on a hazy, underwater quality that was much less frightening than usual. But when I woke, my head ached like no pain I'd ever had before, including the stab wound that Cato gave me in the Games. I could feel every heartbeat in my forehead, a sharp contrast to the warmth I'd felt the night before. I remembered Haymitch saying something about drinking water, so I made a move toward the bathroom to get a glass, but as soon as I got there, I vomited. I couldn't eat for two days, with everything except water coming back up the same way it went down. I privately swore off the stuff for life, and Haymitch never passed me another bottle. It may have been his plan, to have me experience the terrible after effects and decide not to head down the same path he had.

I push open his front door and try to shake off the snow that has accumulated on my clothing.

"...you should have asked Peeta," I hear Katniss say from the main living area of the house.

I step into the room and say, "Asked me what?" Katniss looks at me from the windowsill, and I quickly look away from her, bringing the bread to the table.

"Asked you to wake me without giving me pneumonia," Haymitch says. I notice he's quite wet for being fully clothed, and smile at what must have taken place before I stepped into the house. I don't ask, but go about cleaning Haymitch's knife and slicing up the bread. I finally look up at Katniss and say, "Would you like a piece?"

"No, I ate at the Hob, but thank you," she says, stiffly.

"You're welcome," I reply, trying not to sound offended, though I know the food served at the Hob isn't nearly as good as the bread I make at home.

"Brrr. You two have got a lot of warming up to do before showtime," Haymitch says.

Before I can respond, Katniss says, "Take a bath, Haymitch" and crawls right out the window, leaving us in silence. Haymitch chuckles and makes a move toward the bedroom.

"I didn't just come here to feed you," I say as he heads up the stairs.

"No?" he calls from the second floor. "Let me get a dry shirt and you cut up the rest of that bread." I do as he says, also clearing away some empty bottles from the table and tossing his wet, soiled shirt into the trash. When he returns to the room, I notice he's wetted down all of his hair so it looks more like he's freshly showered and less like he's a half-drowned cat.

"It's about her," I say, not wanting to say her name for some reason.

"Go on," he urges, taking his seat at the table and grabbing another slice of bread.

"You see how she interacts with me, how I can't be anything but formal with her," I take a deep breath. "We're not friendly, and in less than an hour, we'll be expected to be _together_ for the cameras," I say.

"Peeta, you've always had more charm in your left pinky finger than Katniss has in her entire body," Haymitch says with his mouth full. I shrug, not exactly disagreeing or agreeing. "Don't worry about the cameras. Just be yourself, like usual. Forget the cameras are there. And I think you'll know what you need to say to Katniss when you get the chance."

"I know I should apologize," I say. "But this is no playground argument."

"No, it's your real life now, helped along by your stylists from the Capitol," he says.

"Yeah, I need to get home and let them work their magic," I say, clearing away the crumbs that remain on the table where my loaf of bread used to be. "Thanks, Haymitch." He nods in acknowledgement and finishing swallowing the last bite of bread, says "Take care, Peeta" with a tenderness I've never before heard from Haymitch.

I rush home and am greeted by my stylists, Portia giving me a huge hug and kissing me right on the lips, if only for a brief second. I laugh in surprise and they all take me to the room they have set up for my makeover. The room they've selected for our preparations is the same room I use as a studio for my paintings.

Each Victor must select a non-violent talent for which they can be known to the Districts and the Capitol viewers. After my time spent decorating cakes in the bakery, and my well-regarded use of camouflage in the arena, it was a natural choice for me to select painting. The only problem is that the images vivid enough to paint from memory are also from the arena. I would throw away all of the paintings if they weren't required as evidence of my so-called talent. I have tucked away the most gruesome images-ones of my leg wound, Cato in his final moments, and the many images of Katniss in her role as besotted girl Tribute from District 12. I don't want everyone seeing these paintings.

Portia and her assistants admire my work, mainly landscapes of the arena's wooded areas and the lake, for a few moments, declaring "Genius!" and "Stunning!" and then they usher me into the bathroom for a quick shower and instruct me to use the particular soaps and lotions they have set out for me. After I'm through, I still look like myself, just brighter and somehow more _shiny_. They slick back my hair and dress me in a drab-colored warm jacket and boots, murmuring about muted colors being "the new black" which confuses me, because how can any other color be black? And then I hear Portia saying "I hope this is warm enough!" since the snow is now coming down in larger flakes and the sky has darkened as the cloud cover becomes thicker.

In no time at all, Portia ushers me through the front door of my house, toward Katniss who is already taking steps toward me. While dressed in a jacket and boots similar to my own, she looks beautiful, almost radiant. Her own stylist, Cinna, must have polished her to a high shine. She still has her hair in a thick braid over her shoulder. She smiles at me and starts running to meet me, with the cameras on our every move. Before I know what's really happening, she's in my arms and I spin her around, but slip on the snow that has accumulated, unfortunately pulling Katniss down with me.

I hit the ground and she lands on my heavily cloaked chest, her legs tangled with mine. She doesn't seem to mind this in the least, and for just a moment, I do forget the cameras, and she kisses me and I kiss her back, and it seems like maybe the last six months of ice between us have melted. She helps me up off the ground and puts her hand through my arm, as though nothing ever happened to break us apart. I want to apologize to her right now, but with the cameras and stylists milling around, it doesn't seem like the right time. _Later_, I think. We'll have many days ahead of us on the train and in the other Districts.


	3. Apologies

**Hope you're enjoying this so far! Please review/follow/favorite, I really appreciate it. I'll be adding to this until it's complete, so follow for updates. And I plan to write scenes of Mockingjay from Peeta's POV, as well. :)**

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The train is a familiar place, with cars designated for specific uses. On this trip, an entire car has been set aside for my paintings, which will be put on display at the many dinners and other festivities planned for us over the coming days. Since the motion of the train isn't conducive to painting, I've started carrying a small book with me so I can draw or write anytime I like. It mostly stays hidden in my pocket, but is useful when I awake in the night and can't sleep anymore.

At breakfast on the morning we are to visit District 11, Katniss is in attendance with Effie, Haymitch, Katniss's stylist Cinna, and Portia joining us. The stylists rave about the food we are served-tiny triangles of bread that have been dipped into an egg mixture and fried to a fine crunch, then covered with a syrupy sweet thick liquid and heaped with berries in all colors-and the stylists and Effie talk about how well they sleep on trains. I don't say anything, but silently wish the same were true for me. Katniss sits in a depressed slump, not saying anything. The others notice and try to bring her out of it. She refuses to even look at me. When the train slows to a stop and an attendant informs us this is not just a fuel stop, but a delay that could set us off course, Effie starts to panic. Her main job is to keep us on time and she doesn't even control all of the factors that might make us late. She works on her schedule, trying to make sense of how this delay will work against us.

"No one cares, Effie!" Katniss finally breaks her silence by snapping at Effie. Everyone stares at Katniss for her outburst. Not even Haymitch has anything to say about this.

"Well, no one does!" Katniss says, and leaves the car.

"I care, Effie," I tell her. "I'll try to talk to her." I grab one last berry and swallow it as I get up to leave the table. I look at Haymitch, who still hasn't said a thing, and say, "I think it's time." He nods in acknowledgement, letting me leave to talk to Katniss on my own. As I leave the dining car, I hear a low, pinging alarm noise coming from the end of the car. I walk toward it and notice the door is hanging open, no longer latched, and realize Katniss must have gotten off the train. I push the door open and step down to the ground.

The air that hits me when I step out is warm, the opposite of District 12, with its blanket of snow cover. We must have traveled many, many miles in the night to be this far south. I follow the dusty path along the tracks of the train until I see Katniss sitting in the scrubby brush, a couple hundred yards from the end of the train. As I approach, I think about what I need to say, how I need to apologize, how I somehow need to make things right between us so we can complete our Victory Tour with some semblance of friendship.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture," Katniss says to me before I can even speak.

"I'll try to keep it brief," I say, sitting down next to her.

"I thought you were Haymitch," she says.

"No, he's still working on that muffin." I adjust my leg slightly since I can't look her in the eye just yet. "Bad day, huh?"

"It's nothing," she says, but I don't believe her.

I take a deep breath, steadying my voice and my thoughts. "Look, Katniss, I've been wanting to talk to you about the way I acted on the train. I mean, the last train. The one that brought us home. I knew you had something with Gale. I was jealous of him before I even officially met you. And it wasn't fair to hold you to anything that happened in the Games. I'm sorry." I stop, holding my breath for her response. I hate remembering the whole conversation on our trip home, but she needs to know this, needs to know I'm being honest.

"I'm sorry, too," she tells me. I breathe normally again.

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You were just keeping us alive. But I don't want us to go on like this, ignoring each other in real life and falling into the snow every time there's a camera around. So I thought if I stopped being so, you know, wounded, we could take a shot at just being friends," I finish.

"Okay," she replies.

"So what's wrong?" I ask, hoping for a genuine answer. She doesn't respond, just picks at a clump of weeds at her feet. "Let's start with something more basic. Isn't it strange that I know you'd risk your life to save mine. . .but I don't know what your favorite color is?"

She smiles slightly at this, and says, "Green. What's yours?"

"Orange," I say without hesitation.

"Orange? Like Effie's hair?" she asks.

"A bit more muted," I say. "More like . . .sunset."

"You know, everyone's always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven't seen them," she says.

"Well, I've got a whole train car full." I stand up and offer my hand to help her off the ground. "Come on." She takes my hand and I help her stand, but she doesn't let go of it for our walk back to the train. It finally feels comfortable to do this, not awkward. I wonder if she ever holds hands with Gale, but push away the thought before it can sour this moment, when she's forgiven me and decided we can try to be friends.

"I've got to apologize to Effie first," she says.

"Don't be afraid to lay it on thick," I tell her.

We make our way to the dining car, the group still together, chatting and eating lunch. Katniss launches into a big apology, which Effie accepts. She tells Katniss it's clear that she's under a lot of pressure. _What pressure?_ I think. Probably the pressure of the tour. Katniss isn't as natural in front of the cameras and crowds as I am. The people seem to love her, nonetheless, which I understand, because I felt the same way the first time I saw her. She really doesn't know the effect she has on people. When Effie is finished with her lecture on the importance of keeping us on time, I lead Katniss to the car that holds my paintings.

"What do you think?" I ask, after several minutes of her viewing the paintings in complete silence. She spends particular time looking at the painting of her, emerging from a silver grey mist. I had to include at least a couple of paintings of Katniss in the collection for display, though I hesitated about which to select. Ultimately, I picked images that viewers would recognize from watching the Games from the comfort of their homes.

"I hate them," she replies, but I know she doesn't mean that they are poorly painted. "All I do is go around trying to forget the arena and you've brought it back to life. How do you remember these things so exactly?" she asks.

"I see them every night," I say, revealing my nightmares to her.

"Me, too," she also reveals. "Does it help? To paint them out?"

"I don't know. I think I'm a little less afraid of going to sleep at night, or I tell myself I am. But they haven't gone anywhere."

"Maybe they won't. Haymitch's haven't."

"No. But for me, it's better to wake up with a paintbrush than a knife in my hand," I tell her. "So you really hate them?"

"Yes. But they're extraordinary. Really," she says. "Want to see my talent? Cinna did a great job on it." I laugh at this, because Katniss's talent has been fashion design, having no real talents other than hunting and feeding her family. "Later," I tell her. "Come on, we're almost to District Eleven. Let's go take a look at it."

We move to the last car on the train, which contains plush couches and chairs to sit on. The car is nearly all windows, and the back windows retract so you can ride in fresh air. We see farm land with cows, open and rolling for miles, very different from District 12 which is so densely wooded around the town that's been carved out. What really strikes me is the huge fence around District 11. It's probably three times as high as our own fence back home, and thick, reinforced with metal, and topped with barbed wire. The watchtowers add an eerie quality. Our own fence goes unguarded. "That's something different," I say, and Katniss doesn't need to say anything for me to know she agrees. I think of Rue coming from this place, and Thresh. "How many people do you think live here?" I ask out of curiosity. District 11 must be ten times the size of District 12, to have the responsibility of feeding the Capitol and some supplies for the other Districts of Panem. Katniss has no answer, just shakes her head. Effie finally comes to keep us on time and reminds us to get dressed. We really would be lost without her guidance, since Haymitch is mostly useless at logistical details. I go back to my compartment and my stylists dress me, outfitting me in a tailored jacket and contrasting pants, making sure every hair is in place.

I meet up again with Effie and Katniss, now dressed in an orange dress patterned with autumn leaves. She looks lovely, and I'm able to forget for a brief moment why we are here together. I sneak glances at her, trying not to let her notice me admiring her beauty as Effie reminds us of our job today. _Today_, I think. _Today is just the beginning._

And what about tomorrow, and next month, and next year? All of a sudden, it hits me-the viewers, the Capitol, this show we are staging-will never really be over. Each year, previous years' Victors are brought out for show, and viewers are given glimpses into their lives, updates on their talents, their families, and especially their children. And the next Games are only six months away, when Katniss and I will join Haymitch and serve as mentors for the next Tributes from District 12. We're still young, just having turned 17 after we won the Games, and we'll be expected to be mentors for life.

We may have survived the arena only to be puppets for the Capitol for the rest of our lives. And surely they will expect us to continue our love story to its logical end… they will expect Katniss and I to get married, to have children. I don't hate the idea; in fact, before Katniss admitted her side of our love story was an act, I'd imagined we'd eventually share a home in the Victor's Village. People get married young in District 12, my own parents getting married age age 19 in the simple style of our District. If she had really loved me as much as I'd thought, I would have proposed eventually. Only now, it won't be my choice, and it certainly wouldn't be Katniss's choice. She wouldn't have the option of choosing Gale without defying the wishes of the viewers.

But has Katniss figured this out, as well? Surely she can't be happy about her major life choices being dictated by the Capitol. I sneak another glance at her before we go on stage. I have to show her that I'm on her side, that I only meant to protect her in the arena, that I didn't mean for things to go this far. But I have no words, no way to apologize for all of this.

I come back to the moment, someone clipping a microphone to my lapel and one to Katniss's dress. I reach for Katniss's hand, and she's already reaching for mine. I hold tight to her as the doors open and we step onto the stage in District 11.


	4. The shot

**A continuation of the previous chapter. I'm also using a bit of the dialogue from the film version of Catching Fire. Follow for regular updates. :)**

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We walk across the shaded verandah to the top of a big flight of marble stairs. There's a special platform at the bottom of the stage for the families of the dead tributes. On Thresh's side, there's an old woman and a tall, muscular girl who must be his sister. On Rue's, it's her parents, and five younger siblings, who look like little copies of Rue.

The applause dies out and the mayor gives a speech in our honor. Two little girls come up with huge bouquets of flowers for each of us.

I read the first part of the scripted reply from Effie, and Katniss finishes it. I have my personal comments written down, but I don't need them.

"They fought with honor and dignity until the end. Both Thresh and Rue were so young. But our lives aren't just measured in years. The measure in our lives are the people we touch around us. For myself, for Katniss, we know that without Thresh and Rue, we wouldn't be standing here today," I say. "It can in no way replace your losses, but as a token of our thanks, we'd like for each of the tributes' families from District Eleven to receive one month of our winnings every year for the duration of our lives," I finish.

The crowd responds with gasps and murmurs. I don't know if what I've done is even allowed, but I had to do something to repay the families, to demonstrate to Katniss that we are on the same side. In the confusion of what I've just done, she kisses me, which doesn't seem at all staged. I want to ask her if the kiss was real or for the cameras, but now is not the time. The mayor steps forward and presents us each with a plaque. The ceremony is nearly over, but suddenly, Katniss says, "Wait!" and moves forward to the edge of the stage. "Wait, please."

"I want to give my thanks to the tributes of District Eleven," she says. "I only ever spoke to Thresh one time. Just long enough for him to spare my life. I didn't know him, but I always respected him. For his power. For his refusal to play the Games on anyone's terms but his own. The Careers wanted him to team up with them from the beginning, but he wouldn't do it. I respected him for that."

Thresh's mother or possibly grandmother raises her head to Katniss's words and a trace of a smile plays on her lips. The rest of the crowd seems to be holding their breath. Katniss then turns to Rue's family. "But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim. Thank you for your children." She then addresses the crowd. "And thank you all for the bread."

Everyone stares at Katniss in total silence. Then, from somewhere in the crowd, someone whistles Rue's four-note mockingjay tune. The whistler is an old man in a faded red shirt and overalls. Then suddenly, every person in the crowd presses the three middle fingers of their left hand against their lips and extends them to Katniss. It's our sign from District 12, the last good-bye Katniss gave Rue in the arena.

Katniss and I acknowledge a final round of applause. I lead her back toward the doors. "Are you all right?" I ask her.

"Just dizzy. The sun was so bright," she says. She notices my bouquet. "I forgot my flowers," Katniss mumbles. "I'll get them," I say. "I can," she answers.

What happens next, I can hardly believe. From the deep shade of the verandah, we see the whole thing. A pair of Peacekeepers drag the old man who whistled to the top of the steps. They force him to his knees before the crowd. And then they put a bullet through his head.


	5. The truth

**Again, following the storyline of the book closely. Please review and favorite/follow for updates! Thanks for the follows/favorites and reviews so far. They really do make my day and make me want to write more. :)**

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The man has only just crumpled to the ground when a row of Peacekeepers blocks our view. Several of the soldiers hold automatic weapons as they push us back toward the door.

"We're going!" I say, shoving the Peacekeeper who's pressing on Katniss. "We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss." I put my arm around her and guide her back into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers follow behind us. The moment we're inside, the doors slam shut and we hear the Peacekeepers' boots moving back toward the crowd.

Haymitch, Effie, Portia, and Cinna wait under a static-filled screen that's mounted on the wall, their faces tight with anxiety.

"What happened?" Effie hurries over. "We lost the feed just after Katniss's beautiful speech, and then Haymitch said he thought he heard a gun fire, and I said it was ridiculous, but who knows? There are lunatics everywhere!"

"Nothing happened, Effie. An old truck backfired," I lie. And then we hear two more shots.

"Both of you. With me," says Haymitch. We follow him, leaving the others behind. We walk up a curved marble staircase. We're in a fancy room designed for our use, but we spend only a few seconds here, with Haymitch yanking the microphones from our chests, stuffing them beneath a couch cushion, and waving us on.

Haymitch guides us through doors that probably haven't been used in years, as the hinges groan from use. Eventually we climb a ladder to a trapdoor. When Haymitch pushes it aside, we find ourselves in the dome of the Justice Building. The space is cluttered with broken furniture, piles of books, and rusty weapons. There's a coat of dust blanketing everything, demonstrating the room has long been neglected. Haymitch kicks the trapdoor shut and turns on us.

"What happened?" he asks.

I tell Haymitch everything that occurred in the square. The whistle, the salute, our hesitation on the verandah, the murder of the old man. "What's going on, Haymitch?" I ask.

"It will be better coming from you," Haymitch says to Katniss. My stomach knots up, knowing now that they've been keeping something from me. Why do they do this? Why can't they just be honest with me? How can I trust either of them fully if they keep lying to me?

Katniss begins, "President Snow isn't happy with me. And somehow the thing with the berries has sparked something in some of the Districts, a rebellion of sorts. And Snow's figured out I was acting somewhat during the Games. He knows about the time I spend with Gale, that Gale kissed me once, and then he threatened my family, Gale's family, everyone, if we aren't convincing," she takes a breath. "I was supposed to fix things on this tour. Make everyone who had doubted believe I acted out of love. Calm things down. But obviously, all I've done today is get three people killed, and now everyone in the square will be punished." I feel so sick that I have to sit down on a couch, despite the exposed springs and stuffing.

"Then I made things worse, too. By giving the money," I say. I'm so angry with both of them, I make a fist and punch at a lamp that sits on a crate and it flies across the room, where it shatters against the floor. "This has to stop. Right now. This—this—game you two play, where you tell each other secrets but keep them from me like I'm too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them."

"It's not like that, Peeta—" Katniss says.

"It's exactly like that!" I yell at her. "I have people I care about, too, Katniss! Family and friends back in District Twelve who will be just as dead as yours if we don't pull this thing off. So, after all we went through in the arena, don't I even rate the truth from you?"

"You're always so reliably good, Peeta," says Haymitch. "So smart about how you present yourself before the cameras. I didn't want to disrupt that."

"Well, you overestimated me. Because I really screwed up today. What do you think is going to happen to Rue's and Thresh's families? Do you think they'll get their share of our winnings? Do you think I gave them a bright future? Because I think they'll be lucky if they survive the day!" I shout, flinging a statue off its perch. Maybe my demonstrated anger will finally break through to the two of them that I'm not just a child to be protected from the day's bad news, that I'm a collaborator, and deserve to be informed.

"He's right, Haymitch," Katniss says. "We were wrong not to tell him. Even back in the Capitol."

"Even in the arena, you two had some sort of system worked out, didn't you?" I ask. I drop my voice and say, "Something I wasn't part of."

"No. Not officially. I just could tell what Haymitch wanted me to do by what he sent, or didn't send," Katniss says.

"Well, I never had that opportunity. Because he never sent me anything until you showed up," I say. And it's true. No sponsors for the boy from District 12. Not even after Cato attacked me and I'd used camouflage to hide for days, with no food or medicine. Not until Haymitch pulled strings to get the rules changed to allow for two Victors from the same District, and Katniss found me by the riverbed.

"Look, boy—" Haymitch begins.

"Don't bother, Haymitch. I know you had to choose one of us. And I'd have wanted it to be her." I can't look at Katniss when I say these words, but I continue, "But this is something different. People are dead out there. More will follow unless we're very good. We all know I'm better than Katniss in front of the cameras. No one needs to coach me on what to say. But I have to know what I'm walking into."

"From now on, you'll be fully informed," Haymitch promises.

"I better be," I say. I can't meet Katniss's eyes as I leave the attic space, still reeling from what I've just learned. The pressure for this tour to prove our love to President Snow is daunting. At least on my side, I don't have to pretend to care about Katniss. But I do have to be careful about what I say, and who I say it to.

Later, my stylists prepare me for the formal dinner we are attending this evening. They flit about, worrying about my dark suit and who knows what else. I tune them out and think about the days ahead, and try not to think about Gale kissing Katniss. Haymitch comes into the room during a lull in the activity.

"Do you think yelling at her will make it easier for her to continue this trip?" he asks.

"No, but I need to know the truth," I say.

"Look, Peeta, I'm sorry we didn't inform you. But I thought it would be for the best," he sighs, pats me on the back. "Had it been up to Katniss, she would have told you." This makes me feel slightly better, and remorseful for yelling at her.

Before I know it, it's time to meet back up with Katniss and the rest of the group. The sight of Katniss nearly takes my breath away. She's in a pale pink strapless dress, with her hair pinned back from her face and falling down her back in curls, a silver wrap around her shoulders.

Unfortunately, I don't have much time to admire her in silence, as Effie is fretting vocally. She runs through the evening's schedule, then tosses it aside. "And then, thank goodness, we can all get on that train and get out of here," she says.

"Is something wrong, Effie?" asks Cinna.

"I don't like the way we've been treated. Being stuffed into trucks and barred from the platform. And then, about an hour ago, I decided to look around the Justice Building. I'm something of an expert in architectural design, you know," she says. There's a pause where nobody quite knows what to say.

Portia chimes in at just the right moment, "Oh, yes, I've heard that."

"So, I was just having a peek around because district ruins are going to be all the rage this year, when two Peacekeepers showed up and ordered me back to our quarters. One of them actually poked me with her gun!" says Effie.

This is probably because Katniss, Haymitch and I vanished for some time earlier in the day. Effie looks so distressed that Katniss actually gives her a hug, saying "That's awful, Effie. Maybe we shouldn't go to the dinner at all. At least until they've apologized." Effie must feel validated by this and brightens up somewhat.

"No, I'll manage. It's part of my job to weather the ups and downs. And we can't let you two miss your dinner," she says. "But thank you for the offer, Katniss."

Effie arranges us in formation for our entrance. First the prep teams, then Effie herself, the stylists, and Haymitch. Katniss and I, of course, are the most important and so the last to enter.

Somewhere below, musicians begin to play. As the first wave of our little procession begins down the steps, Katniss reaches for my hand and I reach for hers.

"Haymitch says I was wrong to yell at you. You were only operating under his instructions," I say. "And it isn't as if I haven't kept things from you in the past," I continue, reminding her of my confession of love for her in my interview just prior to the Games.

"I think I broke a few things myself after that interview," she says.

"Just an urn," I say.

"And your hands. There's no point to it anymore, though, is there? Not being straight with each other?" she says.

"No point," I say. We stand at the top of the stairs, giving Haymitch a fifteen-step lead as Effie directed. "Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?" I ask before I can think through whether or not I really want to know the answer.

Katniss quickly replies, "Yes." Somehow, I believe her. A feeling of relief washes over me, as inconsequential as it may seem. I'd often tortured myself by imagining Gale with Katniss, but finding out they'd only shared one kiss somehow makes me feel better. And Katniss saying that she was acting somewhat also gave me hope.

"That's fifteen. Let's do it," I say, as a light hits us, and we both smile as we are put on display, descending the steps.


	6. Stay

**This is one of my favorite part of Catching Fire, but I always hated that we didn't get more of this. So from Peeta's POV, we do. If you enjoy, please follow for updates! And I love getting reviews. :)**

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After our first dinner in District Eleven, the days and nights turn into an endless parade of speeches—no deviations from the scripted notes from Effie—and dinners and tours of the Districts and parties. Katniss and I smile and hold hands almost constantly. We dance well together and kiss often. The reactions in the Districts vary—some people seem exhausted by the displays, while others seem to have their anger nearing a boiling point.

Nights on the train are no better than at home. Each night, I doze in my compartment for a while, sheer exhaustion washing over me after the events of each day, but after a couple hours, I usually wake from a nightmare, and I'm immediately out of bed and find myself roaming the train. My wakefulness at night is almost routine, and I can't sleep until I quiet my thoughts. I keep my sketchbook tucked next to my bed, and take it with me to the dining car, using the dim lighting to draw and write impressions of each day.

After we've visited a handful of Districts and been on the train for many nights, I wake after a particularly vivid dream in which I am following Katniss through the woods in District 12. I've never been in the woods beyond the fence, but somehow I know that's where we were. She is not carrying any weapons, but she runs swiftly, and I call her name but she runs further ahead, just out of reach. I pursue her until I am out breath. She slips away entirely before I can reach her. I sit up in bed and take a few deep breaths, reminding myself that Katniss can take care of herself, and that she's safe in the compartment two doors away from mine. I pull on a shirt, grab my sketchbook and head toward the dining car, but am startled when I hear a scream I instantly recognize. Instinct kicks in and I immediately open the door to Katniss's room. Even in the darkened room, I can see she's tangled up in her blankets and not fully awake. She screams unintelligibly again, and I don't hesitate to go to her, pulling her free from the sheet that has become tightly wrapped around her, taking her hands in mine. She seems to struggle out of sleep, sitting straight up and looking at me in shock.

"Peeta!" she says. "Oh, Peeta—it was horrible!"

"A nightmare?" I ask, sitting on the edge of the bed,

"Yes, it must have been," she says slowly. "Only it seemed real. We were in the arena. You and I were—" she squeezes my hands like she is gripped with fear.

"It's okay, Katniss," I say. "Sometimes I can't sleep, either." I hesitate, but before I can think about it too much, I let go of her hands and pull her into my arms, hugging her tightly. She doesn't resist, and wraps her arms around me, gripping my shoulders and resting her head on my chest.

"Oh, Peeta," she sighs. "Effie gave me pills to help me fall asleep, but they just make it worse. I feel like I'm trapped in a terrible fog, and I can't wake up even when I desperately want to!"

"I've stopped trying," I say. "I'm usually awake right now, so when I heard you scream—"

"I screamed?" Katniss asks, pulling away from me slightly and looking into my eyes.

"Yes, you screamed a couple of times," I answer. She looks startled, like she's back in the nightmare. "I'd left you," she says. "I'd left you in the cave, to get the medicine, and then I couldn't find my way back."

"You'd never get lost—that's how you know it's a dream," I try to joke. She smiles a bit at this. "You're right," she says.

"Okay, I think I'll go—" I start to say, loosening my hold on her.

"No," she says, pulling me back. "Stay with me? At least until I fall asleep?"

I can't deny her this small comfort which may allow her to get some rest. I nod, and she releases her hold on me and helps me straighten the sheet and blankets. I silently slip into the empty side of the bed, being careful to leave her plenty of space. But she moves to my side of the bed, and I hold my breath as she lays down close to me, resting her head on my chest, just like she did in the cave, so many months ago. I put my arms around her and she shifts so that her arms are around me, as well.

"Thank you for this, Peeta," she says quietly. I close my eyes and remind myself that this intimacy probably doesn't mean anything to her, at least, not the way I want it to. I take a deep breath and say, "You kept watch over me once." She nestles her body closer to mine, and the warmth I've been trying to deny floods my body. I would kiss her if I weren't afraid she'd tell me to leave. Eventually, she falls asleep. I kiss her forehead lightly, so as to not wake her, and also drift off to sleep, only waking once—but I fall back asleep as soon as I realize she's still there in my arms.

The next night, after I'm dressed for sleep, Katniss comes to my room, saying, "Will you stay with me again tonight?"

"Yes, if you want me to," I say, and she takes my hand and leads me to her room, curling up close to me again, our bodies fitting together perfectly, like our hands do in the daylight. While nothing else happens, this closeness feels comfortable and makes me feel even more protective of her. And whether I want to be or not, I know I'm irrevocably in love with the girl from the Seam who now wears her hair in one braid instead of two.

I don't realize until many nights pass that our nights together on the train have become a subject of gossip. Haymitch mentions it to me one morning before the others have joined us, saying, "I've been getting an earful from Effie about the lovebirds making a nest in Katniss's bed." At first, this shocks me, but then suddenly, I realize I'm happy with people assuming we are really together. I laugh and tell Haymitch, "It's nothing," and he shakes his head in disbelief, so I correct myself, "Well, almost nothing."

It becomes almost a point of pride for me that Katniss needs me, wants me, even if it's not quite what I'd hoped for. In some ways, it's better this way. And maybe word will make it back to President Snow that we spend our nights together, truly inseparable.


	7. The proposal

**Thanks for the reviews! This next part also drove me a little crazy when I read the book, because Katniss is such a bummer of a narrator when it comes to her romance. She never told us how she brings up the idea of Peeta proposing, any of the fun banter with Caesar, or what Peeta says when he proposes. Maddening! So, of course, Peeta will tell us what happens. I see Peeta as a much more reliable narrator than Katniss. Follow for updates! Thanks, again. :)**

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Our visits to Districts 2 and 1 are some of the worst experiences of my life outside the arena. It's clear that the people here truly hate us; their own Tributes, Glimmer and Marvel, Cato and Clove, might have made it home if Katniss and I hadn't. Katniss and I took out Cato at the end, and the anger in his home District is evident. We don't have much time to talk about any of it as we hurtle toward the Capitol, where we will be put to the final test, onstage with Caesar Flickerman, the host and lead commentator of the Hunger Games. I actually like Caesar, with his bizarre colored hair and eyebrows dyed to match.

By the time we reach the Capitol, we are exhausted and I can tell Katniss is wearing thin. We make many appearances to adoring crowds. There is no danger of an uprising here among the privileged, among those whose names are never placed in the reaping balls, whose children never die for the supposed crimes committed generations ago. We don't need to convince anybody in the Capitol of our love, but hold to the slim hope that we can still reach some of those we failed to convince in the Districts. Whatever we do seems too little, too late.

Back in our old quarters in the Training Center, after a lavish dinner, Haymitch, Katniss and I strategize and try to plan our next move. Suddenly, Katniss says something truly unexpected.

"Why doesn't Peeta propose to me on stage tonight? The audience and Caesar will love it, and it could convince Snow. There's no point in waiting. We'll get married eventually, anyway."

I don't have much time to formulate a response, so I nod and say, "Okay, let's do it," but then immediately go back to my room, alone. I pull out my book, the pages filled with tiny drawings of scenery and buildings and faces we've seen on the tour, and some words about each. Every few pages is an image of Katniss or one that reminds me of her. A sketch of our hands entwined catches my eye. I'd drawn it in the middle of the night, on one of our first nights on the trip, before Katniss invited me into her bed. A fluttery feeling hits me, both anxiety and hope. I don't have much time before we'll be onstage, and I'll be proposing marriage to Katniss Everdeen. I replay her words...

"_There's no point in waiting. We'll get married eventually, anyway."_

Did she really mean this, or did she just mean that the Capitol would have demanded this outcome eventually, and we would be forced by President Snow to comply? She didn't sound upset when she said it, but she also didn't exactly sound overjoyed.

This is not at all how I'd imagined proposing to her. I don't even have the ring my mother set aside for me, her own simple silver ring that she never wore after her children were born and she worked daily in the bakery, getting her hands dirty, which made a ring impractical. It's still in a box in my clothes cabinet back home in District 12. I'd imagined giving it to Katniss as a gift, a symbol of a promise to stay with her always, to keep her safe, and love her until my last breath.

Now, I really only have two options. I can either write a proposal so over-the-top that it will have viewers swooning, or I can be honest and say what I have wanted to say to Katniss for many months. I try it both ways in my imagination, but don't decide until we are on stage with Caesar.

That night, Caesar Flickerman, in his sparkling dark blue suit, guides us through the interview.

"So tell me, Peeta, Katniss, how have you been enjoying your Victory Tour?" he asks.

Since Katniss hesitates a split second too long, I quickly reply, "It's been great, Caesar! We've so enjoyed visiting all of the Districts and especially our trip here to the Capitol. All of the celebrations have been beautiful and we've been grateful for everyone's support."

"That's wonderful!" he says and laughs jubilantly. "What has been your favorite part of the trip?" he goes on to ask.

This time Katniss replies, "I can't speak for Peeta, but for me, it's been being on the trip with him," she turns to look at me, smiling. "He's been there for me the whole time." The audience makes a collective "aww" sound, and I, too, get swept up in the sweetness of this. How much of her comment is true and how much is for the audience?

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Caesar responds. "Isn't that sweet?" he asks the audience and they audibly agree. "And what about the future for our lovely young couple?" he queries.

I take this as my cue, and move off the small sofa, kneeling down on one knee in front of Katniss. I take her left hand in mine, and begin, "Katniss, I've been a baker ever since I could walk, taking flour and yeast and water to make bread. But you are the secret ingredient my life has always been missing. You've showed me that love is more important than anything. I love you more than life itself and would do anything to make you happy. Please marry me and we can build a future together. Please."

Katniss seems stunned, though she herself suggested the proposal. It almost seems like she doesn't know how to respond, but she recovers quickly and says, "Peeta, of course I'll marry you!" and pulls me into a hug, holding onto me tightly.

Caesar is beside himself, the Capitol audience is basically hysterical, and on the screens, we can see shots of crowds around Panem, which show a country besotted with happiness.

President Snow reveals himself to be in attendance by showing up on stage, and congratulates us. He clasps my hand and gives me an approving slap on the shoulder. Then he embraces Katniss, and kisses on her cheek. I can't tell if he's said anything to her, but Katniss seems happy enough and smiles broadly. Maybe she is actually happy that we're engaged? I don't have time to contemplate this, as President Snow silences the audience and says, "What do you think about us throwing them a wedding right here in the Capitol?" Katniss responds with a gasp and seems excited at this idea.

Caesar interrupts to ask, "Do you have a date in mind?"

"Oh, before we set a date, we better clear it with Katniss's mother," says the president. The audience laughs loudly and the president puts his arm around Katniss, saying "Maybe if the whole country puts its mind to it, we can get you married before you're thirty."

"You'll probably have to pass a new law," she says with a laugh.

"If that's what it takes," says the president.


	8. The party

**I apologize for the lack of updates, been busy. Thanks again for all of the reviews! :) Follow for regular updates. I have some time off coming up so hope to make a lot of progress on this before the New Year.**

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After the show with Caesar, we attend a party in the banquet room of President Snow's mansion. I'm still reeling from my proposal to Katniss and her response. I know that it was for show, but I also meant every word. I think she must know this, and feel raw, like my chest has been cracked open and my heart is now on display for all to see.

There are plush sofas and chairs so that people can eat and drink and do whatever they please in the utmost comfort. I wish I could steal Katniss away to one of these private areas and really talk to her, but we're expected to mingle and talk to everyone tonight. And we are surrounded everywhere by food. Tables line the walls, full of delights the likes of which we would never see in District 12. There are whole roasted animals, enormous platters of birds stuffed with savory fruits and nuts, and fish and other sea creatures swimming in sauces. And along with these, there are countless breads, fruits, desserts, vegetables, wines and spirits on display in the most lavish ways possible.

"I want to taste everything in the room," Katniss says as we enter the room and take in everything.

I study her, somewhat confused, since she's barely eaten anything on our trip so far and Cinna has had to take in nearly all of the dresses he's crafted for her. But maybe the relief of the end of the tour has finally hit her. I tell her, "Then you'd better pace yourself."

"Okay, no more than one bite of each dish," she says and puts her hand through the crook of my arm. The first table holds an array of soups, which I know she especially likes. It must be because of all the soup she's eaten at the Hob, with main ingredients like wild dog and old root vegetables. She seems to weaken her "one bite" rule when she tastes a pumpkin concoction that is sprinkled with nuts and seeds that are in contrast to the creaminess of the texture. "I could just eat this all night!" she exclaims. But she doesn't, and I eat the rest of the small portion she's taken.

Katniss and I make no effort to find company but are constantly sought out, being the main attractions of the party. People congratulate us, want to shake our hands and hug. Multiple people show off versions of Katniss's token in the arena, a golden mockingjay pin. I wonder if this drives President Snow a little crazy, that the symbol of a potential rebellion is all the rage in Capitol fashion. I don't have much time to wonder, as Katniss and I make our way through all the tables of food. Anything Katniss can't finish, she gives to me. We both can't stand seeing food go to waste, but we are getting very full after about ten tables, and there are many more to go.

Just then Katniss's prep team descends on us. They're nearly incoherent between the alcohol they've consumed and their joy at being at such a grand affair.

"Why aren't you eating?" asks Octavia.

"I have been, but I can't hold another bite," Katniss says. They all laugh.

"No one lets that stop them!" says Flavius. They lead us over to a table that holds tiny stemmed glasses filled with clear liquid. "Drink this!"

I pick one up to take a sip and they all exclaim. "Not here!" shrieks Octavia.

"You have to do it in there," says Venia, pointing to doors that lead to the restrooms. "Or you'll get it all over the floor!"

I look at the glass again and figure it out. "You mean this will make me puke?"

The prep team laughs maniacally. "Of course, so you can keep eating," says Octavia. "I've been in there twice already. Everyone does it, or else how would you have any fun at a feast?"

I set the glass back on the table very delicately. The thought of voluntarily throwing up in order to eat more is abhorrent, and reminds me of the night I'd tried the brown liquor from Haymitch, and the terrible aftermath. I never want to experience that again, and say, "Come on, Katniss, let's dance."

I lead her away from the team, the table, and out onto the dance floor. Effie has shown us some dances that are popular in the Capitol, formal dances suitable for such grand occasions as we've been part of over the past few weeks. The music is slow, so I pull Katniss into my arms and we move in a tight circle, barely taking any steps. I am still upset, thinking of the gluttony of the Capitol and the starving faces we've seen in the Districts.

I say to Katniss, "You go along, thinking you can deal with it, thinking maybe they're not so bad, and then you—" I stop.

"Peeta, they bring us here to fight to the death for their entertainment," she says. "Really, this is nothing by comparison."

"I know. I know that. It's just sometimes I can't stand it anymore. To the point where… I'm not sure what I'll do." I pause, then whisper, "Maybe we were wrong, Katniss."

"About what?" she asks.

"About trying to subdue things in the districts," I say. I think about the terrible things we've seen, the man shot in District 11, but I realize I must hold my tongue, especially at President Snow's party.

She looks around quickly, but no one seems to have heard. The camera crew that had been following close to us the whole night were still at a table of shellfish, and the couples dancing around us are either too drunk or too self-involved to notice.

"Sorry," I say.

"Save it for home," she tells me.

Just then Portia appears with a large man who looks vaguely familiar. She introduces him as Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker. Plutarch asks me if he can steal Katniss for a dance. I good-naturedly pass Katniss over, saying, "Don't get too attached."

I make my way to a table of elaborately decorated cakes. I admire the shapes and frosting work, and quickly, bakers come from the kitchen especially to talk with me about their work. I find it all very interesting, but Katniss arrives at the table after just a few moments. At my request, the bakers assemble an assortment of little cakes for me to take home to District 12, where I can examine their work in more detail.

"Effie said we have to be on the train at one. I wonder what time it is," I say, glancing around.

"Almost midnight," she replies, plucking a chocolate flower from a cake with her fingers and nibbling on it.

"Time to say thank you and farewell!" trills Effie, appearing out of nowhere. We collect Cinna and Portia, and she escorts us around to say goodbye to important people, then herds us to the door.

"Shouldn't we thank President Snow?" I ask. "It's his house."

"Oh, he's not a big one for parties. Too busy," says Effie. "I've already arranged for the necessary notes and gifts to be sent to him tomorrow. There you are!" Effie gives a little wave to two Capitol attendants who have Haymitch, drunk, propped up between them.

We travel through the streets of the Capitol in a private car. Another car brings the prep teams. The streets are still full of celebrating citizens, so the trip takes longer than it usually would. I'm not worried about making it back to the train in time, though, since Effie keeps track of all of these details. We make it back onto the train just before one o'clock.

Haymitch is brought to his room. Cinna orders tea and we all take seats around the table while Effie waves around her schedule papers and reminds us we're still on tour. "There's the Harvest Festival in District Twelve to think about. So I suggest we drink our tea and head straight to bed." No one argues.

I wake up and realize it's already early afternoon. Katniss's head rests on my arm. I stay still for a while so as not to disturb her, but in a short amount of time, she turns slowly to look at me, and sees that I am also awake.

"No nightmares," I say to her.

"What?" she asks.

"You didn't have any nightmares last night," I say.

"I had a dream, though," Katniss says. "I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice."

"Where did she take you?" I say, lightly brushing her hair off her forehead.

"I don't know. We never arrived," she says. "But I felt happy."

"Well, you slept like you were happy," I tell her. It's true. No thrashing around or screaming, not even a light disturbance.

"Peeta, how come I never know when you're having a nightmare?" she asks.

"I don't know. I don't think I cry out or thrash around or anything. I just come to, paralyzed with terror," I tell her.

"You should wake me," she says.

"It's not necessary. My nightmares are usually about losing you," I say. "I'm okay once I realize you're here." She doesn't say anything to this, but snuggles closer to me. "Be worse when we're home and I'm sleeping alone again," I say. And it's true. I won't have her in my bed anymore, though after this trip, I think we will stay close as friends, or whatever it is that we are now. And ultimately, the Capitol will expect our wedding.


	9. Consequences

**Thanks again for all of the follows and reviews! I will continue to update this until complete, so follow to receive notice when I update. :)**

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Before I know it, we are back in District 12 where there will be a dinner at Mayor Undersee's house and a victory rally in the square during the Harvest Festival tomorrow. We're only at the train station briefly, smiling and waving as we pile into our car, before going to be prepared for the event at the mayor's house. None of our families are there to greet us, as we're immediately bustled off to be prepped, and they'll be in attendance tonight.

Katniss and I are quickly separated, decorated in our finery, and escorted to dinner along with the others. Katniss is dressed in a dazzling silver gown, and I'm in a coordinating grey suit. All evening, I try to catch her attention, but it seems as though her mind is on other things and she only responds in short sentences. My family is happy to see me, and they whisk me home when the evening draws to a close, without giving me a chance to say goodbye to Katniss. At the Harvest Festival, the same thing happens. I can tell she's preoccupied, but with what? I still haven't had a chance to find out what she really thinks about our engagement, and whether or not she thinks we've convinced President Snow and quelled the upset in the other districts.

The next day, I see her leave her house with a worn leather bag, back to wearing her old clothes, the glamour of the tour gone. She slips out of view and I know she's heading for the woods. It could be to hunt, but more likely she has a plan to meet up with Gale on his day off. Part of me feels betrayed, but another part of me understands. Gale Hawthorne has been her closest friend since her father died, and he also cares for her. Katniss has never explained their relationship, but I've always known their bond was important to her.

I try not to wonder the reason for her meeting with Gale or about the outcome of our Victory Tour until I can speak to her directly, and busy myself with making breakfast for my family, spending some time in my studio with my paints, and then I make my way toward town to my family's bakery to help out for a while.

As I'm leaving the Victor's Village, I practically walk into Katniss without realizing she's there. I'm so surprised to see her, I stupidly ask, "Been hunting?" and then try not to show my annoyance with her about her secret meeting with Gale.

"Not really. Going to town?" she asks.

"Yes. I'm supposed to eat dinner with my family," I say.

"Well, I can at least walk you in," she says. It seems like she wants to talk to me, as she chews on her lip in a nervous way I recognize. Suddenly, she takes a deep breath and the words seem to rush out her, "Peeta, if I asked you to run away from the district with me, would you?"

An image appears to me, of me and Katniss escaping District 12 and running away together. But I instantly know this will never happen. I stop on the path and grab her arm, saying, "Depends on why you're asking."

"President Snow wasn't convinced by me. There's an uprising in District Eight. We have to get out," she says. Somehow, I already knew that we weren't convincing enough to stop an uprising. But a small part of me had hoped that it would help in some way. Now I know that it was useless from the beginning. And now it's likely that all of us, our friends and families, are in danger.

"By 'we' do you mean just you and me? No. Who else would be going?" I ask.

"My family. Yours, if they want to come. Haymitch, maybe," she says.

"What about Gale?" I ask pointedly.

"I don't know," she's evasive. "He might have other plans."

I shake my head and smile ruefully, saying, "I bet he does. Sure, Katniss, I'll go."

"You will?" she asks, sounding very girlish and innocent for a brief moment.

"Yeah. But I don't think for a minute you will," I say.

She jerks her arm away angrily. "Then you don't know me. Be ready. It could be any time." She takes off walking and I follow a couple paces behind.

"Katniss," I say. She doesn't slow down. "Katniss, hold up." I watch as she kicks a chunk of snow off the path and stops walking to let me catch up. "I really will go, if you want me to. I just think we better talk it through with Haymitch. Make sure we won't be making things worse for everyone." I hear a sound and raise my head, asking, "What's that?"

She lifts her chin, also listening. The noise is coming from the square. I recognize the sound but can't seem to place it.

"Come on," I say, rushing toward the square. The crowd makes it difficult to see what's happening. I step up on a crate against the wall of the sweetshop and offer Katniss a hand while I get a look at the square. I instantly see what's happening; Gale is being whipped by a Peacekeeper. Katniss will not react well to this development. She's halfway up on the crate when I quickly try to block her way. "Get down. Get out of here!" I whisper insistently.

"What?" she says, trying to force her way back up.

"Go home, Katniss! I'll be there in a minute, I swear!" I tell her.

She isn't convinced by this, and yanks away from my hand and pushes her way through the crowd. People see her, and some try to push her back.

I hear someone tell her, "Get out of here, girl."

She manages to get through the crowd and to see exactly what's happening. It's not our old Head Peacekeeper, it's a new, tall, muscular man in a crisp uniform, a heavy whip in his hand, which he raises in a motion that makes me sick to my stomach. I jump off the crate and follow the same path Katniss took to push through the crowd.

"No!" I hear Katniss cry, and, as the crowd shifts to let me through, I see her spring forward, throwing herself directly between the whip and Gale. She puts out her arms to protect as much of him as possible, so there's nothing to deflect the lash. I watch as the whip hits the left side of her face, and she falls to her knees. She cups her cheek with one hand and braces herself from falling to the ground with her other. The stones beneath her are wet with Gale's blood. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" Katniss shrieks.

The new Head Peacekeeper lifts his powerful arm again.

"Hold it!" a voice barks. Haymitch appears and trips over a Peacekeeper lying on the ground.

It's Darius, one of the nicer Peacekeepers, who has obviously been knocked out, likely because he tried to help Gale.

Haymitch ignores him and pulls Katniss to her feet. "Oh, excellent." He lifts Katniss's chin to inspect her wound. "She's got a photo shoot next week modeling wedding dresses. What am I supposed to tell her stylist?"

The man rests the whip on his hip, saying, "She interrupted the punishment of a confessed criminal."

"I don't care if she blew up the blasted Justice Building! Look at her cheek! Think that will be camera ready in a week?" Haymitch barks.

"That's not my problem," the man says.

"No? Well, it's about to be, my friend. The first call I make when I get home is to the Capitol," says Haymitch. "Find out who authorized you to mess up my victor's pretty little face!"

"He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?" says the man.

I step into the center of the square. "He's her cousin," I say, gently taking Katniss's other arm. "And she's my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us."

The new Head Peacekeeper glances at his backup squad. They look like mostly familiar faces, and they clearly aren't enjoying this.

A woman steps forward stiffly and says, "I believe, for a first offense, the required number of lashes has been dispensed, sir. Unless your sentence is death, which we would carry out by firing squad."

"Is that the standard protocol here?" asks the Head Peacekeeper.

"Yes, sir," the woman says, and several others nod in agreement.

"Very well. Get your cousin out of here, then, girl. And if he comes to, remind him that the next time he poaches off the Capitol's land, I'll assemble that firing squad personally." The Head Peacekeeper wipes his hand along the length of the whip, splattering Haymitch, Katniss, and I with blood. Then he coils it into loops and walks off.

Most of the other Peacekeepers fall in formation behind him. A small group stays behind and picks up Darius.

"Gale." Katniss turns, her hands fumbling at the knots binding his wrists. Someone passes forward a knife and, as I cut the ropes, Gale collapses to the ground.

"Better get him to your mother," Haymitch says to Katniss.

We devise a makeshift stretcher out of a board from the woman at the clothing stall. "Just don't tell where you got it," she says, packing up her things quickly. Haymitch and I and a couple of miners who work on the same crew as Gale lift him up and start carring him toward Katniss's house.

"Get some snow on that," Haymitch orders over his shoulder to Katniss, who is bringing up the rear of our group.

As we walk, Bristel and Thorn, Gale's crewmates, tell the story of what happened. Gale went to Cray's house with the wild turkey, with the plan to sell it to Cray. Instead, he found the new Head Peacekeeper, a man someone call Romulus Thread. Cray has mysteriously disappeared. Thread immediately arrested Gale, and he was brought to the square, forced to plead guilty to his crime, and sentenced to a whipping to be carried out immediately. By the time Katniss and I showed up, he'd been lashed at least forty times. He had passed out after about thirty lashes.

"Lucky he only had the turkey on him," says Bristel. "If he'd had his usual haul, would've been much worse."

"He told Thread he found it wandering around the Seam. Said it got over the fence and he'd stabbed it with a stick. Still a crime. But if they'd known he'd been in the woods with weapons, they'd have killed him for sure," says Thom.

"What about Darius?" I ask.

"After about twenty lashes, he stepped in, saying that was enough. Only he didn't do it smart and official, like Purnia did. He grabbed Thread's arm and Thread hit him in the head with the butt of the whip. Nothing good waiting for him," says Bristel.

"Doesn't sound like much good for any of us," says Haymitch.

Snow begins falling, thick and wet, making visibility even more difficult. Katniss's mother is there, waiting.

"New Head," Haymitch says, and she nods, not needing any other explanation for Gale's battered body.

I watch as Katniss's mother takes over the situation and transforms the kitchen into a hospital environment, having Prim assist her in pulling remedies from her medicine cabinet. She seems to be preparing a special treatment, and instructs Prim to assemble a second mixture as she says to Katniss, "Did it cut your eye?"

"No, it's just swelled shut," Katniss says.

"Get more snow on it," she instructs.

"Can you save him?" Katniss asks her mother. She doesn't reply as she wrings out the cloth.

"Don't worry," says Haymitch. "Used to be a lot of whipping before Cray. She's the one we took them to."

I try to make myself useful and get Katniss a chair and hold a cloth filled with fresh snow to her cheek.

Haymitch tells Bristel and Thorn to get home, and he presses coins into their hands before they leave. "Don't know what will happen with your crew," he says. They nod and accept the money.

Gale's mother, Hazelle, arrives, and without greeting us, she sits on a stool next to the table, takes Gale's hand, and holds it against her lips. It takes a long time for Katniss's mother to clean the wounds and care for the remaining skin on Gale's back, putting a light bandage over it. As the final bandages are being placed, Gale moans in pain. Hazelle strokes his hair and whispers something while Katniss's mother and Prim go through their collection of bottles, deciding on an appropriate painkiller. Since Gale is regaining consciousness, they decide on an herbal concoction he can swallow himself.

"That won't be enough," Katniss says. "That won't be enough, I know how it feels. That will barely knock out a headache."

"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Katniss, and he'll manage it. The herbs are more for the inflammation—" Katniss's mother says calmly.

"Just give him the medicine!" Katniss screams at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!"

Gale begins stirring at Katniss's voice. His movement causes fresh blood to stain his bandages and an agonized sound to come from his mouth.

"Take her out," says Katniss's mother. Haymitch and I literally carry Katniss from the room while Katniss shouts obscenities at her. We have to pin her down on a bed in one of the extra bedrooms until she stops fighting.

Katniss lays there, crying, and I whisper to Haymitch, "We didn't convince Snow, and not only that, there's an uprising in District Eight." Haymitch nods in acknowledgment. "She wants us all to run," I say, but Haymitch doesn't reply to this.

After a while, Katniss's mother comes in and treats the wound on her face. Haymitch informs her what happened with Gale.

"So it's starting again?" she says. "Like before?" I'm not sure exactly what they're talking about, but I assume it doesn't mean anything good.

"By the looks of it," he answers. "Who'd have thought we'd ever be sorry to see old Cray go?"

Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and Katniss shoots straight out of bed.

"They can't have him," Katniss says, likely guessing it's more Peacekeepers.

"Might be you they're after," Haymitch responds.

"Or you," Katniss says to him.

"Not my house," Haymitch points out. "But I'll get the door."

"No, I'll get it," Katniss's mother says quietly.

We all go, though, following her down the hallway to the insistent ring of the bell. When she opens it, there's not a squad of Peacekeepers but a young woman covered in snow. It's the mayor's daughter, Madge. She holds out a box to Katniss, saying, "Use these for your friend." Katniss takes off the lid of the box, revealing half a dozen vials of clear liquid. "They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please." She runs back into the storm before we can stop her.

"Crazy girl," Haymitch mutters as we go back into the kitchen.

Whatever Katniss's mother had given Gale wasn't enough to dull the pain. His teeth are gritted and his flesh shines with sweat. Katniss's mother fills a syringe with the clear liquid from one of the vials from the box and shoots it into Gale's arm. Almost immediately, his face begins to relax.

"What is that stuff?" I ask.

"It's from the Capitol. It's called morphling," Katniss's mother answers.

"I didn't even know Madge knew Gale," I say.

"We used to sell her strawberries," Katniss says, sounding angry.

"She must have quite a taste for them," says Haymitch.

"She's my friend," Katniss replies.

Now that Gale has drifted away on the painkiller, everyone seems to deflate. Prim gives us each some stew and bread to eat. A room is offered to Hazelle, but she has to go home to be with her other children. Haymitch and I are both willing to stay, but Katniss's mother sends us home to bed. I trudge home in the snow, thinking of all that has changed since this morning when I'd first wondered if we'd managed to convince President Snow and stop the uprising. The answer came swiftly via the violence of the new Head Peacekeeper. All I can think is, what's next?


	10. The storm

**I want to sincerely thank you all for all of the reviews and follows, I really appreciate each follow/favorite/review. Follow for updates! I will be completing this, though it may take me a while. Feel free to bookmark and come back to read it all when it's complete. :)**

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As the morning light begins to seep into my room, I decide to give up on sleep. I wasn't able to sleep much at all during the night, wondering what was happening with Gale and Katniss. Her obvious devotion to him reminded me so much of her well-acted dedication to me in the arena, but I didn't doubt the reality of her attachment to Gale. On the train, I'd really begun to think that maybe she did care for me, needed me as much as I needed her, her body next to mine every night. And that might have been true at the time, but with Gale's whipping, her allegiance has shifted.

I decide to set aside my feelings of jealousy and go and see if I can help in any way at Katniss's house. I make my way to the kitchen and begin the day, as usual, by baking some loaves of bread for my family, and a couple extra to bring to Katniss's house. I walk over through the heavy covering of snow, which is still falling thickly, the wind making it difficult to see much of anything, and try the door without knocking. It's open, so I enter the house quietly, trying not to disturb anyone who might still be resting after the previous day's upset. I enter the kitchen, setting the loaves on the counter, and see Katniss, asleep with her face on the table next to Gale's broken body. They are holding hands as they sleep. I feel suddenly as though our nights on the train meant nothing, that Katniss can only be committed to one person: Gale. I almost decide to leave the bread there without a word and go home, leaving them to their own devices, but instead, I reach down and shake Katniss's shoulder until she awakes.

"Go on up to bed, Katniss. I'll look after him now," I tell her.

"Peeta. About what I said yesterday, about running—" she starts.

"I know," I say. "There's nothing to explain." Of course we won't be running away together now, I think. There's no reason for Katniss to explain.

"Peeta—" she begins again.

I interrupt before she can say anything else, "Just go to bed, okay?"

I can hear her trudge up the stairs to her room, and go about clearing up the kitchen, keeping an eye on Gale as I work. I find butter in the refrigerator and set it out to soften, leaving the loaves on the counter. I take a seat next to the table, watching Gale as he sleeps. He'd been very pale the day before, but his coloring has come back this morning, and I feel some small relief that he is unlikely to die due to his injuries. Katniss's mother and Prim awake and come into the kitchen. They each thank me for the bread as they butter it and eat. After a while of eating in silence, we hear Katniss awake upstairs, and I make my excuses and go home. I collapse into bed, exhausted, finally able to fall asleep for a short period of time. When I wake from my nap, I decide that someone should check on Haymitch. I go over to his house, bringing him some bread and building up his fire. He's almost too drunk to speak, so I don't even try. I go home and try not to think about everything that has happened, but can think of nothing else.

Suddenly, I hear the telephone ringing. It's a somewhat unfamiliar sound in District 12, as very few people have telephones. The houses in the Victor's Village have them, of course, so after a few rings, I go to answer it.

"Hey," I hear Katniss's voice say. "I just wanted to make sure you got home."

"Katniss, I live three houses away from you," I reply.

"I know, but with the weather and all," she says.

"Well, I'm fine. Thank you for checking." I pause, not quite sure what to say next. I ask, "How's Gale?"

"All right. My mother and Prim are giving him snow coat now," she says

"And your face?" I ask.

"I've got some, too," she says. "Have you seen Haymitch today?"

"I checked in on him. Dead drunk. But I built up his fire and left him some bread," I tell her.

"I wanted to talk to—to both of you," she says lamely.

"Probably have to wait until after the weather calms down," I tell her. "Nothing much will happen before that, anyway."

"No, nothing much," she agrees. We make our goodbyes and I hang up. After a couple days of blizzard conditions, the storm dies down. It takes another day for paths to be cleared so people can move about, with drifts higher than our heads. I get another telephone call from Katniss, asking if I want to go into town with her. We also rouse Haymitch and convince himt o come with us. I know Katniss wants to discuss what happened, and our homes in the Victor's Village aren't private enough for this.

On the path to town, Haymitch finally says to Katniss, "So we're all heading off into the great unknown, are we?"

"No," she says. "Not anymore."

"Worked through the flaws in that plan, did you, sweetheart?" he asks. "Any new ideas?"

"I want to start an uprising," she says. Somehow, I'm not surprised by this at all, but Haymitch laughs in response, saying, "Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though," he says.

"Then what's your plan?" Katniss says back to him.

"My plan is to make sure everything is just perfect for your wedding," says Haymitch. "I called and rescheduled the photo shoot without giving too many details."

"You don't even have a phone," she says.

"Effie had that fixed," he says. "Do you know she asked me if I'd like to give you away? I told her the sooner the better."

"Haymitch," Katniss seems to plead.

"Katniss." He mimics her tone. "It won't work."

We all stay quiet as a team of men with shovels passes us, headed out to the Victor's Village. We step into the square and all come to a stop simultaneously. The square has been transformed. A massive banner with the seal of Panem hangs from the roof of the Justice Building. Peacekeepers march on the cleanly swept cobblestones, and, along rooftops, more of them occupy nests of machine guns. There are now a line of new constructions—an official whipping post, several stockades, and a gallows—set up in the center of the square.

"Thread's a quick worker," says Haymitch.

Some streets away from the square, we all see a blaze flare up. We all know it is the Hob, going up in smoke.

"Haymitch, you don't think everyone was still in-—" Katniss stops.

"Nah, they're smarter than that. You'd be, too, if you'd been around longer," he says. "Well, I better go see how much rubbing alcohol the apothecary can spare."

He trudges off across the square and Katniss finally looks at me. "What's he want that for?" she asks, then realizes and says, "We can't let him drink it. He'll kill himself, or at the very least go blind. I've got some white liquor put away at home."

"Me, too," I tell her. "Maybe that will hold him until Ripper finds a way to be back in business. I need to check on my family."

"I have to go see Hazelle," she says.

"I'll go, too. Drop by the bakery on my way home," I say.

"Thanks."

The streets nearly empty of people, which wouldn't be so unusual at this time of day if people were at the mines, and children at school, but they aren't. Faces peek at us out of doorways and through cracks in shutters.

We go to Gales' house and find Hazelle nursing a very sick Posy, Gale's youngest sister. She is covered in measles spots. "I couldn't leave her," Hazelle says. "I knew Gale'd be in the best possible hands."

"Of course," Katniss says. "He's much better. My mother says he'll be back in the mines in a couple of weeks."

"May not be open until then, anyway," says Hazelle. "Word is they're closed until further notice." She gives a nervous glance at her empty washtub.

"You closed down, too?" Katniss asks.

"Not officially," says Hazelle. "But everyone's afraid to use me now."

"Maybe it's the snow," I say hopefully.

"No, Rory made a quick round this morning. Nothing to wash, apparently," she says. Rory wraps his arms around Hazelle. "We'll be all right."

Katniss takes a handful of money from her pocket and lays it on the table, saying, "My mother will send something for Posy."

When we're outside, Katniss turns to me, saying, "You go on back. I want to walk by the Hob."

"I'll go with you," I say.

"No. I've dragged you into enough trouble," she says.

"And avoiding a stroll by the Hob… that's going to fix things for me?" I smile and take her hand. Together, we walk through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building. It's not able to be saved, so isn't guarded by Peacekeepers.

The heat from the flames melts the surrounding snow and a black trickle runs across Katniss's shoes. "It's all that coal dust, from the old days," she says. "I want to check on Greasy Sae."

"Not today, Katniss. I don't think we'd be helping anyone by dropping in on them," I tell her.

We go back to the square, to the bakery. Katniss buys some cakes from my father while we exchange small talk about the weather. None of us mentions the ugly tools of torture just yards from the front door.


	11. Always

**Thank you for all of the positive reviews and follows! I got a few books for Christmas, one being "The Panem Companion: from Mellark Bakery to Mockingjay" by V. Arrow, and it's very interesting—highly recommend it if you are as obsessed with the Hunger Games as I am. It's giving me an insight into Peeta I hadn't previously thought about. Please follow for regular updates!**

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As the days pass, things get much worse. The mines stay closed for two weeks, and by that time, half of District 12 is starving. Many kids sign up for tesserae, but they often don't receive their grain. There are other food shortages, and even those with money can't find much to buy in the stores. My parents are both very busy in the bakery; they no longer need the money because of my win in the Hunger Games, but food is in such high demand, they don't have much time to rest. When the mines reopen, wages are cut and hours lengthened. The highly anticipated food on Parcel Day arrives rotten and ruined by rodents. The new installations in the square get a lot of use, as people are dragged in and punished for offenses so long overlooked by District 12 Peacekeepers, people have forgotten they are illegal.

One positive thing is that, while Hazelle Hawthorne has found herself unemployed, Katniss convinced Haymitch to hire her as a housekeeper, which means Gale's family doesn't struggle for money and Haymitch no longer lives in filth. It's actually nice going into his house, with it clean and food warming on the stove. Haymitch barely notices because he's been battling with the lack of liquor in the district. Katniss and I tried to ration the white liquor we had saved, but it's almost run out, and the last time Katniss saw Ripper, she was in the stocks.

One night, a box arrives with a note from Effie. It's a number of suits for me to try on for the wedding. _The wedding._ I'd thought that perhaps the wedding would be called off, or at least delayed, but in Effie's note, she mentions a similar package has been left for Katniss with President Snow-approved wedding gowns to try on. I imagine Katniss receiving this package, and wonder what she makes of this. What will a wedding accomplish? It must be for those in the Capitol, as the other districts probably couldn't care less about the romance of the star-crossed lovers of District 12.

The next day, after helping out in the bakery for a few hours in the morning, I stop by Haymitch's house to check on him. He's quite lucid after many dry days, and I tell him about the boxes of suits and gowns.

"What do you make of it?" I ask him.

"President Snow promised a wedding," he says in reply.

"So we'll go through with it?" I ask.

"You'll do whatever he wants, to save your skins and those of your family," he pauses. "But maybe we can delay it for a while. Let's make a visit to Katniss to talk about an alternate plan." We trek over to Katniss's house, through the high snow drifts, but find that she's been gone for hours, and Mrs. Everdeen doesn't know exactly where she's gone. She invites us to stay for dinner in another hour, so we sit down and start a game of chess while we wait. Moments after beginning our game, there's a harsh knock on the door. Katniss's mom goes to answer it, and finds two Peacekeepers, a man and a woman, and they are looking for Katniss.

"We're here for Katniss Everdeen," the man barks.

"She's out," Mrs. Everdeen replies.

"When will she return?" the woman asks.

"I'm not entirely sure," Katniss's mother hesitates. "She was going to run a few errands for us, but she may have been delayed. You're welcome to wait," she says, gesturing toward two chairs at the kitchen table.

"We'll stand," the man says harshly. And stand they do, for another couple hours, as Haymitch and I finish our game, mainly in silence, and begin a second one, and Katniss's mother pretends dinner isn't ready yet and keeps the oven on low.

All of a sudden, we hear the front door of the house open, and it sounds like a clatter of activity, but I instantly know Katniss has arrived. She appears in the kitchen doorway, saying, "Hello," in a neutral voice.

Mrs. Everdeen stands behind the Peacekeepers, but keeps her distance.

"Here she is, just in time for dinner," she says happily.

She pulls off her hood and shakes the snow from her hair. "Can I help you with something?" she ask sthe Peacekeepers.

"Head Peacekeeper Thread sent us with a message for you," says the woman.

"They've been waiting for hours," Mrs. Everdeen adds.

"Must be an important message," Katniss says.

"May we ask where you've been, Miss Everdeen?" the woman asks.

"Easier to ask where I _haven't_ been," she responds with a sound of exasperation. She crosses into the kitchen, passing between the Peacekeepers and to the table. She flings her bag down and turns to Prim, who's standing stiffly by the hearth. She also acknowledges Haymitch's and my presence, and seems pleased to see us.

"So where haven't you been?" says Haymitch in a bored voice.

"Well, I haven't been talking to the Goat Man about getting Prim's goat pregnant, because someone gave me completely inaccurate information as to where he lives," she says to Prim emphatically.

"No, I didn't," says Prim. "I told you exactly."

"You said he lives beside the west entrance to the mine," Katniss says.

"The east entrance," Prim corrects me.

"You distinctly said the west, because then I said, 'Next to the slag heap?' and you said, 'Yeah,'" she says.

"The slag heap next to the east entrance," says Prim patiently.

"No. When did you say that?" Katniss demands.

"Last night," Haymitch chimes in, lying easily.

"It was definitely the east," I add, making the story more plausible. I look at Haymitch and we laugh, making light of the situation. Katniss glares at me and I feign looking contrite, and say, "I'm sorry, but it's what I've been saying. You don't listen when people talk to you."

"Bet people told you he didn't live there today and you didn't listen again," says Haymitch.

"Shut up, Haymitch," Katniss says, clearly indicating he's right.

Haymitch and I crack up in laughter and Prim allows herself a smile.

"Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up," Katniss says, which makes all of us laugh more.

She looks at the Peacekeepers and I watch their reactions. The man's smiling but the woman is unconvinced. "What's in the bag?" she asks sharply.

She must be hoping for game or wild plants, something that clearly condemns Katniss and shows she was in the woods. Katniss unceremoniously dumps the contents of the bag onto the table, saying, "See for yourself."

"Oh, good," says Mrs. Everdeen, examining the cloth that has tumbled out. "We're running low on bandages."

I go to the table and open the candy bag. "Ooh, peppermints," I say, popping one into my mouth.

"They're mine," Katniss says, sounding annoying, and she takes a swipe for the bag. Before she can grab it, I toss the bag of candy to Haymitch, who stuffs a fistful of sweets in his mouth before passing the bag to a giggling Prim. "None of you deserves candy!" Katniss says.

"What, because we're right?" I ask, and wrap my arms around Katniss. She gives a small yelp, which she tries to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can tell that she's injured somehow and my embrace has hurt her.

I say, "Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we're all idiots. How's that?"

"Better," she says, and I lean in to kiss her cheek, but before I can, she kisses me on the lips. She then looks at the Peacekeepers as if she's suddenly remembering they're there, and asks, "You have a message for me?"

"From Head Peacekeeper Thread," says the woman. "He wanted you to know that the fence surrounding District Twelve will now have electricity twenty-four hours a day."

"Didn't it already?" she asks, a little too innocently.

"He thought you might be interested in passing this information on to your cousin," says the woman.

"Thank you. I'll tell him. I'm sure we'll all sleep a little more soundly now that security has addressed that lapse," Katniss replies.

The woman's jaw tightens. None of this has gone as planned, but she has no further orders. She gives Katniss a curt nod and leaves, the man trailing in her wake. When my Mrs. Everdeen has locked the door behind them, Katniss slumps against the table.

"What is it?" I ask, holding her steadily.

"Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tail-bone's had a bad day, too." I help her over to one of the rockers and she lowers herself onto the padded cushion.

Katniss's mother eases off mhery boots. "What happened?"

"I slipped and fell," she says. We all look at her with disbelief. "On some ice." But we all know the house must be bugged and it's not safe to talk openly.

Having stripped off my sock, Mrs. Everdeen probes Katniss's left heel and she winces. "There might be a break," she says. She checks the other foot. "This one seems all right." She judges Katniss's tailbone to be badly bruised.

Prim's dispatched to get Katniss's pajamas and robe. When she's changed, Mrs. Everdeen makes a snow pack for her left heel and props it up on a hassock. She eats in her seat while the rest of us dine at the table. Prim goes and sits on the floor next to Katniss, leaning her head against Katniss's knee. They suck on peppermints as Katniss brushes hair behind her ear. "How was school?" she asks.

"All right. We learned about coal by-products," Prim says. They stare at the fire for a while. "Are you going to try on your wedding dresses?"

"Not tonight. Tomorrow probably," Katniss says. _That's right_, I think, _the reason Haymitch and I came to visit in the first place._

"Wait until I get home, okay?" she says.

"Sure," Katniss replies.

Mrs. Everdeen gives her a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and her eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps up Katniss's bad foot, and I volunteer to get her to bed on the second floor. She starts out by leaning on my shoulder, but she's so wobbly, I pick her up and carry her upstairs, tucking her in.

"Goodnight, Katniss," I say. I'm about to leave, but she catches my hand and holds me there, not letting go. I wonder if she wants to ask me to stay the night, like the many nights on the train, but simply can't get the words out. Or if she knows she shouldn't ask, because she's already made her choice: Gale.

"Don't go yet. Not until I fall asleep," she says.

I sit on the side of the bed, warming her hand in both of mine, saying, "Almost thought you'd changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner."

"No, I'd have told you," she says. She pulls my hand up and leans her cheek against the back of it. It seems like she wants to say more, but just says, "Stay with me."

As the tendrils of sleep syrup pull her into slumber, I whisper, "Always." And I mean it.


	12. An announcement

**Happy 2014! Sorry for the lack of updates, but I am back to my regularly scheduled life. Follow for updates, as I do plan to complete this and also do Mockingjay. Reviews are especially appreciated! :) Hope you enjoy…**

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Since Katniss's injury, I visit her every day and keep my promise to stay with her always, bringing her the cheese buns that I know are her favorite. I'd discovered this fact after we returned from the Victory Tour, when she'd specifically asked about my recipe for them. I started making them every time I baked, delivering a few each day to the Everdeen house.

On a visit just a couple days after her injury, she asks for help with her family's book. She has me pull it out and look through it. It's a beautiful, old collection of ink drawings of plants, obviously passed down for many generations. It's a work of art, along with containing information on the plants' medicinal uses and even some edible wild plants that Katniss's father added in. I notice on one of the earliest pages the nightlock plant and berries that won us our victory. Katniss grew up knowing these things about plants that I never even knew enough to wonder about, until my brief introduction to them in our preparation for the Hunger Games.

"I've wanted to add my own knowledge to this for a while," she told me after I'd gotten a good look at the book. "But I can't draw, and it really needs pictures to be useful..."

"Of course I'll help," I replied.

My drawing and painting skills prove to be crucial for the project. Some of the plants are already familiar to me, and the ones I don't know, we work on together in various ways. For some, there are dried samples I can work from, and others, Katniss describes in detail and makes sure I have everything right on scrap paper before putting the final drawing into the book. She then writes down everything she knows about the plants in a careful script.

A few days into our project, I casually mention to Katniss that the power is off in sections of the fence because I've seen crews out securing the base of the chain link to the ground on my way to and from the bakery. She seems pleased with this knowledge, but I know she's not yet healed enough to venture back into the woods. We quietly continue our work on the book.

It's a pleasant, peaceful task, and focusing on the drawings take my mind off other things I'd rather not think about. With her permission, I add touches of color to the previously black and yellow book. For some reason, I'm able to concentrate on this project without worrying about everything going on in the district and the rebellions elsewhere.

One afternoon, I stop shading in a blossom and look up suddenly at Katniss, and she starts, as though she was caught spying on me. The look on her face is inscrutable to me and makes me wonder what she was doing, looking at me like that, but I only say, "You know, I think this is the first time we've ever done anything normal together."

"Yeah," she agrees. "Nice for a change."

Each afternoon, I carry her downstairs for a change of scenery and, one day, she unnerves everyone by turning on the television. Usually, people only watch television when it's mandatory, because the mixture of propaganda and displays of the Capitol's power are simply not entertaining. But it seems she's looking for something special. What it is, she doesn't say. We continue our days working on the book, with me refining each drawing before it goes into the book, Katniss eating her weight in cheese buns as I work. Haymitch stops by occasionally to bring news from town, which is always bad, with more people being punished or dying from starvation.

Winter is nearly over by the time Katniss's foot is deemed usable. Her mother gives her exercises to do and lets her walk on her own a bit, but I still visit to keep her company.

One day, I'm about to visit Katniss again, but find out that her prep team is visiting in order to do a photo shoot of her in her wedding gowns. Instead of stopping by her house, I head to the bakery and help out my parents for the day, decorating some cakes like the ones sent from the Capitol at the end of the Victory Tour, trying not to think about our impending wedding. That night, I have a familiar nightmare in which I chase Katniss through the woods of District 12, except this time, she's in a long, white dress. She lets me get close but I never catch her, and wake up feeling more exhausted than when I fell asleep. I leave for the bakery early and avoid walking near Katniss's house. The air is warmer today than it has been in months, and I can tell that spring is on its way. Who knows what this change of seasons will bring?

That night, my family turns on the television for a mandatory broadcast. My heart sinks to my stomach when I learn that it's a special show on the wedding preparations, with Caesar Flickerman talking to Cinna about Katniss's options for wedding dresses. I nearly get up to leave the room, but when they start showing pictures of Katniss in the various costumes, I become riveted, just like the live audience members from the Capitol. They show her in so many dresses, I lose count. She looks stunningly beautiful in all of them, but I know I am not supposed to want this kind of wedding. Usually, people in our district have a simple ceremony, culminating in the building of a fire, and the toasting and sharing of bread.

Apparently, people in the Capitol get to vote on the final dress that Katniss will wear. I'd ignored the box of suits Effie had sent, thinking the wedding plan would be scrapped. It's strange to think that this wedding will go ahead, but maybe it will make for a distraction from the rebellions cropping up in various districts. Caesar then announces that interested parties must cast their final vote by noon tomorrow.

"Let's get Katniss Everdeen to her wedding in style!" he bellows to the crowd. Then Caesar is telling us to stay tuned for the other big event of the evening. "That's right, this year will be the seventy-fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games, and that means it's time for our third Quarter Quell!"

I look to my parents for their reaction to this news. They seem disinterested. We never talk about the Games, my injury, or my victory—they mostly just leave me alone. The biggest change has been that they no longer require me to work in the bakery, but I still like to help so am often there anyway. The money from the victory means they don't need to run the bakery in order to feed me and my brothers, but District 12 still desperately needs the bread and cakes provided. They are able to give away bread to those in need, but supplies are so limited, they can't feed everyone.

The anthem plays, and President Snow takes the stage. He's followed closely by a boy in a white suit, holding a wooden box. The anthem ends, and President Snow gives a speech about the Dark Days from which the Hunger Games were born. When the laws for the Games were set up, they required that every twenty-five years, the anniversary would be marked by a Quarter Quell. It would mean a glorified version of the Hunger Games, to keep alive the memory of those killed by the districts' rebellion. These words could are especially pointed, since we've had clues that several districts are rebelling right now.

President Snow tells us about the previous Quarter Quells, "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it. On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died for each Capitol citizen, every district was required to send twice as many tributes."

I think about Haymitch. He won the second Quell, but Katniss and I had never asked how.

"And now we honor our third Quarter Quell," the president continues. The boy in white steps forward, holding out the box as the president opens the lid. The camera zooms in on the rows of yellowed envelopes, indicating that whoever devised the Quarter Quell system had prepared for hundreds of Games. The president removes an envelope, pulling out a small square of paper. Without hesitation, he reads, "On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

My family barely reacts, but all of them turn to look at me. I understand immediately what this means, and my mind revolts, feelings of anger, frustration, and quickly, acceptance and determination wash over me.

"I need to go talk to Haymitch," I say, and excuse myself.


End file.
